


someday, yeah, we'll get it together and we'll get it all done

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [21]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “How does Quill know how to fix the cooling system?Whyare you letting him fix the cooling system?Li’l Quill?”





	someday, yeah, we'll get it together and we'll get it all done

Rocket padded quietly through the halls of the third Quadrant, his thoughts flickering from the different bombs, explosives, and big-ass guns he could cobble together with all the random wires and things lyin’ around, to whether everyone on the ship was doin’ okay overall, to whether or not Groot was goin’ through another growth spurt. 

He only sometimes thought about the last time he’d walked down these hallways, the rest of the Eclector blowin’ up behind him and Yondu as they escaped the flames and the corpses they’d left behind. He didn’t think about it too much – just made him remember the dust particles they’d left in the vacuum of space, not even two months ago. 

Music filtered out of one of the rooms he passed, door wide open and slightly off-key singing familiar in its terribleness. He stopped and poked his head into the room. 

The first thing to hit his senses was the slightly stale stank of hours’ old sweat, as if Peter hadn’t moved from his spot since he sat down; the second thing was that the room was ridiculously warm, to the point of actually causing a body to sweat in the first place.

“Why the hell have you made this room actual hell?” Rocket asked, stepping fully into the room and immediately regretting it. His fur puffed a bit, and he had to resist the urge to let his tongue stick out for just a second. He wasn’t no damn _puppy_ , whatever the hell that was. 

Peter jerked, swearing when a screwdriver caught the delicate webbing between his forefinger and thumb. Rocket thanked his crappy stars that he was more careful with his hands than the humie. 

“Knocking would be appreciated, Rocket,” Peter said, words muffled as he sucked on his hand. And these people called _him_ the animal. “And I’m pretty sure the cooling system in this room’s actually broken.” He waved at a panel in the wall, which was hanging open, wires spilling out like colourful noodles and sparking a little bit. 

Rocket stared at the panel, scratching at his ribs, before turning back to Peter. 

“And you’re still in here, why?” 

Peter rolled his eyes, holding up what he had been working on before. It looked like a component from the wall panel, pried open and fiddled with. Rocket raised a furry brow. 

“I’m sorry, Quill, are you sure you should be handlin’ such sensitive materials as actual parts of the ship? This ain’t like the _Milano_ – y’can’t just slap some duct tape and use my replicator for a quick fix. That’s the literal inner workin’s of the thing.” 

“I’m aware, thank you,” Peter said, biting his lip and hunching over the piece. “I’m also perfectly capable of fixing the cooling system; I used to do it all the time.” 

“Wait, what?” 

Rocket’s ears twitched and he sidestepped just as Kraglin came bustling into the room, jacket off and sweat-stained tank covered in oil and grease and probably lunch from earlier. He dropped a bucket filled to the brim with little piece of tech; Rocket’s hands twitched to get a hold of them, really look them over and figure out what each could do if given the chance. 

“Thanks, Krags,” Peter muttered, rifling through the bucket and pulling out a nut or a bolt or something; Rocket wasn’t paying attention just then, just watching the tableau of Peter sat on the ground, messing with things and Kraglin crouching in front of him, lookin’ as at ease as he ever had. 

(Rocket eyed the fin implant on his skull; looked at the angry red swelling around where the skin wasn’t healing all that great, and he thought he’d maybe give the Ravager a couple of hints about what to do about aggravated skin and infections.) 

“How’s it goin’, li’l Quill?” Kraglin asked, scratching at his chest. Peter snorted, and Rocket scampered closer to the two of them, hesitating before clambering up Kraglin’s back to sit on his shoulder. Kraglin grunted, shifted his weight, but didn’t push him off. 

“ _Li’l Quill_?” 

“You haven’t called me that in _forever_ ,” Peter said, grinning and looking over at Kraglin. “Stopped around the time I got taller than you.” 

“Weren’t so li’l then,” Kraglin said with a shrug. Rocket looked between the two, frowning and flicking Kraglin’s ear. “Hey.” 

“How does Quill know how to fix the cooling system? _Why_ are you letting him fix the cooling system? _Li’l Quill_?” 

“Way to question my intellect there, dude,” Peter said, pointing at Rocket with the screwdriver. Rocket reached out and snatched it, pointing it right back at the terran. “Hey!” 

“It’s so damn easy t’question, really,” he said, smirking a little, “just ask anyone.” 

“Okay, haha, real funny, give that _back_.” Peter snatched the screwdriver back, turned back to the component, and squinted at the little gears, knobs, wires and such for a moment before he snapped it closed and stood up, walking over to the wall. He carefully pushed the component back into its spot, rewiring it in a flurry of confusing twists, and with a final flourish, flicked a switch. 

It was quiet in the room for a moment before something in the walls seemed to cough, and then the A/C in the room kicked back into gear. Rocket could feel the air circulating. 

“Quill’s always been good with little things,” Kraglin said after a moment, holding still as Rocket hopped off his shoulder and instead stood in front of him. Rocket stared back at him, making a hand gesture for him to keep goin’. “Started with his li’l toys he’d had with ‘im; whenever whatever powered ‘em, some old school battery or whatever, died out, he’d figure out a new way to use ‘em.” 

“Only because Yondu threatened to junk ‘em,” Peter said, scratching at his neck just behind his ear. He flinched when Kraglin threw a bolt at him, glaring at him. “Hey!” 

“Don’t play with that, ya brat.” 

“ _Ugh_ ,” Peter rolled his eyes, before looking back at Rocket. “Like my energy scanner, the one we used to track the movements of that monster we fought for the Sovereign? Old game system from when I was a kid – used to play a football game on it. It crapped out one day, and Yondu said figure out a new use for it or it was going into the scrapheap. I figured out a new use for it.” 

“Then there was the permanent battery for yer music player,” Kraglin said, sitting down fully on the ground, legs stretching out. Rocket moved out of the way, climbing up a pile of crates so he was more on eye-level with Peter. “Got your fancy old calculator back up workin’, too.” 

“Had to mess around with it so it would convert dollars to units,” he said, shaking his head, “ _that_ was annoying.” 

“’ventually he ran out of things t’fix that were his own, so Cap’n would give ‘im chores around the ship. Fix this thing; figure out a new use fer that thing, hotwire one of the M-Ships just t’see if ya could. Didn’t like that one much, seein’ as he _managed it_.” 

“Okay, that one is all on you and Yondu, you shouldn’t dare a fourteen year old who had only been _salivating_ after one of those ships to hotwire it, of course I wanted to try and fly it.” 

“Almost took out th’bay doors is what ya did,” Kraglin said, rolling his eyes. He reached up to poke at the fin, and Rocket resisted the urge to find the nearest projectile and toss it at him; Kraglin dropped his hand after a moment, as if sensin’ that. “As fer li’l Quill? S’just somethin’ Cap’n an’ I would call ‘im, back when he was actually li’l.” 

“...Kinda like how you call Groot li’l Groot, sometimes?” Rocket questioned, looking over at Peter. The humie shrugged, looking away from him and Rocket hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, then, next question: why was _I_ always in charge of fixing the _Milano_?” 

Peter blinked, looking over at him with raised brows, and Rocket set his hands on his hips and scowled at him. 

“Apparently, Quill, you’re _perfectly capable_ of fixin’ these things yourself.” 

“Not huge things, Rocket,” Peter said, shaking his head. “I can’t repair entire walls and shit. Just. Little things. Annoyances. And I always did that, anyway, when I couldn’t sleep.” 

“What? _When_?” 

“Well, there was that one time shortly after Xandar when you saw me comin’ out of the engine room – one of the engines was makin’ a weird noise, so I went ahead and checked it out. Oh, and then there was the time when the water wasn’t working all that well, so I went and messed around with the piping and stuff. And then, y’know, during the fight with my father.” 

Peter shrugged here, nonchalant as you could please, but Rocket noted the sudden stiff way he held his shoulders and the way Kraglin had gone completely still. The air around them suddenly seemed as thick as it had been when it was a sauna, despite the cool air circulatin’ around them. 

“That old junker had always been a piece of crap,” Peter said after a moment, swallowing thickly and looking away from the two of them. Rocket wondered once again if he was actually okay or just puttin’ on a front so the others would stop giving him pityin’ looks all the time. 

“It held up well when it was important,” Kraglin said, voice cracking like it hadn’t since the first weeks After. “Plus we had only gotten it fer the one job, it weren’t meant for anythin’ else.” 

“Still,” Peter shook his head, looking back at Kraglin. “We should’ve kept it up to date. At least enough so that it wouldn’t break down at the worst times.” 

“Cap’n never put importance on it – we hadn’t done any proper break-in jobs fer a while, none that needed that craft.” 

“That’s like saying we shouldn’t have the life pods up to date, ‘cause we haven’t needed to escape the ship from inevitable death in a while.” 

“Quill—”

“Or maybe we shouldn’t check the life support, ‘cause it’s been fine and it hasn’t broken down since that one time, right?” 

“Pete—”

“Hell, let’s just not double check to make sure we have more than one life suit on hand in case our ride out of here craps out and we have to blast out of atmo and head to the ship on foot!” 

“Peter!” 

Peter breathed in shakily, pressing a hand to his eyes. Kraglin had stood up during his rant, reaching out as if to grab hold of him, but he was holding back. Rocket had no such qualms. 

He jumped over onto Peter’s shoulder, rubbing his knuckles against his scalp until Peter made a noise of protest, glaring at him through his fingers. 

“What the _hell_ , Rocket.” 

“Shit happens. Machines ain’t checked up to date, and we don’t always got what we need in emergencies. We deal with the fallout, we plan to fix our mistakes for the future, and we don’t _cling_ to shit when it makes no damned sense to.” He grabbed Peter’s head, jostling him, and Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. “Am I makin’ myself clear here, Quill? ‘Cause I can bring out graphs and shit, yer smart enough to understand ‘em apparently.” 

“I got it, I got it,” Peter muttered, pushing his hands away and ruffling up his own hair. “Get off of me, already.” 

Rocket looked at him for a moment longer, huffing and hopping to the ground on light feet. He stretched out his back, seeing the Ravager and the terran both avoiding eye contact. 

He decided right then that he was done with their emotional drama, and they could deal with whatever was going on in their heads all by themselves. 

“Make sure you finish up whatever it is you’ve got left t’do in here, Quill – Groot’s goin’ to bed in an hour and you know he likes to listen to your music thingie before he sleeps.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter waved, turning back to pick up his things he’d left on the ground. Kraglin shifted awkwardly on his feet, before he reached out and ruffled up Peter’s hair. 

“Ya all done here, Quill?” 

Peter scrunched up his jacket in his hands, glancing up at Kraglin and smiling weakly. 

“Yeah, Krags.” 

Rocket left before he could hear anything else; confident he didn’t need to hear any of the following apologies.

~+~

An hour later, Rocket went up to the room they’d decided was Groot’s, if only because it was not too big, close to the bridge, and already had a bed and everything in it. 

Peter had told them it had been his old room, and that Yondu had always called it a closet. Groot had thanked Peter with all his little heart and Peter had looked a little like he was gonna cry again, but that was probably because it was literally days After and he still was shaken up. 

Rocket didn’t really know, he just thought it was a d’ast room. 

He stopped when he noticed the door already open, peeking in around the corner to see Peter already sitting on the bed, a larger Groot curled against his side; the Zune playing its music on the little stand Yondu had had lyin’ around like the sentimental idiot he’d been. 

Groot was fast asleep, breathing soft and heavy; the music in the room one of the softer, slower ones that he seemed to like the best. Peter was watching him, expression a little faraway like his thoughts were somewhere else. 

Rocket padded into the room and pulled himself up onto the bed. Peter looked over at him, giving him a lopsided smile. 

“Midget didn’t even wait t’say goodnight to me. Rude.” 

“Apparently he was running around with Gamora and Drax while they trained. They were doing hand-to-hand, nothing sharp and pointy went near him.” 

Rocket relaxed, leaning back on his hands. 

“You and Kraglin good?” 

Peter blinked, looking at Rocket unsurely, before he turned back to look at Groot; hand over his head, tracing the softened bark ridges in a soothing back and forth motion. 

“We’re good – had a long talk, got some stuff off of our chests. Never really did that, before. It was actually kinda nice.” 

“Don’t see the appeal,” Rocket said, scrunching up his snout. Peter rolled his eyes, and Rocket grinned. “But it’s good to air the crap out once an’a while.” 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, smiling again, “else it just makes life stink.” 

“...that was sad, Quill.” 

“Oh come on, that was a good one.” 

“Sad and _pathetic_. Not seein’ what Gamora sees, gotta tell ya.” 

“Shut up, you dumb badger.”


End file.
